Long  night

The stones that had circled him once are mute and still;
the trees that surround the stones have lost their music;
their leaves now only echo with faint rustling sighs  
the god-given song that had stirred them in a dance.

Within the well of darkness that reaches down
deep to the dismal asphodel fields of Hades
a whisper yet remains, and a wraith that is no more  
than the ghost of a ghost floating in the cave.   


A prophetic singing head, and a lyre unsilenced
had carried the music of love to a darkening world  
till, frozen at last in the stars, the song and singer ended.


But what of her, pale maiden unfulfilled?
Was she welcomed back by Persephone and Dis?
or was she left to wander by the shore of Lethe,
her untuned song a mere whisper among the reeds?

We know of him and his translation into light
but the great three-headed dog stands between us and her.